


Freak

by writingbyrachel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Jealousy, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Petunia POV, Pre-Canon, Sister-Sister Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingbyrachel/pseuds/writingbyrachel
Summary: Petunia's jealousy curdled her. She grew up pinched and spiteful: a terrible person and a horrible aunt. In 1981, she woke to find a baby on her doorstep. Ten years later, letters would arrive addressed to "The Cupboard Under the Stairs."But in 1971, Petunia wrote her own letter.





	Freak

**Author's Note:**

> Some lines of dialogue/description are taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows (extract available on Pottermore). Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I am not affiliated with the franchise nor do I profit from this work.

Petunia is out with her friends when it happens.

She comes home, giddy from breathless sharing of schoolgirl secrets over tea that burned the roof of her mouth, and finds a strange woman in her lounge. Her parents are engaged in rapt discussion. Lily, the object of conversation, sits at attention with wide eyes and twisting hands.

And Petunia _knows._ She knows as soon as she sees the pointed hat perched on the woman’s head. Her hands ball into fists and her eyes prickle with angry tears. When she opens her mouth, she will later be relieved that her mum takes that moment to notice her, because she’s not quite sure what would have come out.

“Petunia, dear,” Jonquil Evans says. “Professor… McGonagall, yes?... is here to talk to your sister about a special school.” Her mother’s gaze is gentle, but questioning: _Did you know?_

The woman clears her throat. “If you’d like to sit down, I can reiterate what I have just explained to your parents.”

Petunia flushes hot. She thinks of Lily soaring through the air, of closed petals blooming early, of too-big clothes and sardonic words and a faint scar on her shoulder. _No,_ she thinks furiously, she would not like to sit down. She would like to turn around, walk out the door, and never come back. One foot slides behind the other. Her family stares at her, waiting, wondering as the silence begins to drag on. Her face is burning.

Petunia sits down.

She stares fixedly at her fingernails and hears this… _witch_ talk about magic, and magic schools, and a whole magic world where Lily belongs and Petunia never ever will. The specifics drift over her head. Instead she focuses on keeping her breathing steady, her expression neutral, her posture straight.

She’s not sure how well she manages it, but she doesn’t do anything truly stupid – cry or scream or hit someone – so she’ll call it a success.

The next few days are a whirlwind of activity. Lily is ecstatic, which Petunia finds ridiculous, because it’s not as though she hadn’t already learned everything from that Snape boy. Her father adapts to the knowledge that his youngest daughter is a witch with the same steadiness Harold Evans applied to everything in his life. Her mother immerses herself in Lily’s new world: taking her shopping in an alley behind a pub Petunia cannot see, staying up late to pore over fantastical textbooks together, chatting about wizarding politics and history over the breakfast table. Magic invades every aspect of their routine. It is stifling, and Petunia responds with avoidance. She sleeps over at her classmates’. She studies in the library. She bikes to the music store and peeks beneath lowered eyelashes at the boy behind the counter.

(Petunia writes a letter. She spends hours agonizing over what to say, crossing out draft after draft until the words flow like silk. When she posts it, her fingers do not want to release the envelope – but they do, and off it goes. Then she puts it firmly out of her mind. _It doesn’t matter,_ she tells herself.)

~

It does matter.

Petunia buries her scrunched-up face in her pillowcase and hates the world. It’s not _fair._ She hates herself even more for being so _stupid_ – of course it’s not fair, _life’s_ not fair, what did she _think_ would happen – but the plaintive thoughts won’t go away. It’s not just that she’s not magic, it’s that she isn’t and Lily _is,_ that she’ll have to know about it and see about it and hear about it for the rest of her life, and… and…

Her mum’s hand slips into hers and carefully pulls away the crumpled letter. “Shhhhh,” she whispers, not to shush but to soothe, and slides on the bed next to her. She strokes Petunia’s hair and hums until the tears first slow, then finally stop. “I know. It’ll get better, I promise.”

Petunia is thirteen and knows differently. Timothy Bainbridge got rejected by Gina Radford four months ago, and the school still snickers over it at lunch. Debbie Fairebourne has been a pariah ever since she bled through the seat of her skirt in maths class. Being an outcast isn’t a stain that fades with time.

She leans into her mother’s embrace and inhales her flowery perfume anyway, allowing herself to be comforted. It’s a lie, but she can pretend to believe it. Just for a moment, she imagines being a child again, back when her mum could fix anything. _But not this time,_ a voice whispers in the back of her mind, _she can’t fix you._ Petunia squeezes her eyes shut and tells the voice to go away.

The murmur fades to nothing, but it is a hollow victory. She knows the truth by now: _the voice always comes back._

~

It’s stifling inside the car. The air conditioner is on full-blast against the end-of-summer heat, but the atmosphere is weighed down by tension. James Taylor’s nostalgic twang fills the absence of conversation. Her father drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Her mother’s pencil scratches across a page. Lily flicks through a book.

Petunia stares sullenly out the window. She doesn’t want to be here. She had it all planned out, too. Wanda Magray was having a girl’s night to celebrate the last of the holidays, which just so happened to be on September 1st. The invitation had been such a convenient excuse to avoid having to see off Lily. It wasn’t until this morning, while she was packing her bags, that her parents realized the date and refused to let her go. The resulting argument ended in slammed doors, tears, and the beginning of a very uncomfortable car ride.

It takes two hours to drive from Cokeworth to London, during which time no one speaks a word. By the time they pull into the parking lot outside King’s Cross, Petunia is happy to be there, if only so she can escape the silence. Lily appears equally excited, albeit for a different reason.

Once outside, Lily and their parents begin to talk again about Hogwarts. Petunia drags her feet behind them and hopes no one in the crowded station overhears. Really, what a horrible name for a school. Hog-warts. It sounded like a disease. The corners of her lips turned upward at the thought.

“–you just run at the barrier between the platforms–”

“What? _”_ Petunia interjects despite herself. She stares at her sister, certain she must have misheard.

“It’s just an illusion, Tuney,” says Lily. “The wizarding platform is 9 and ¾, and it’s on the other side, so everyone else doesn’t see it.”

Her gaze darts between her sister and the incredibly solid brick wall in front of them. “I will _not_.”

Her mum laughs, though Petunia can’t see what’s so funny about broken bones and head injuries. “You don’t have to run,” she reassures her. “Professor McGonagall said the easiest thing to do is to lean up against the barrier and duck through when no one’s watching.”

Lily is no less enthused. “Come on, it’ll be fun!” She grabs Petunia’s hand and pulls as she breaks into a sprint. Taken by surprise, Petunia careens into the brick along with her sister. She barely has time to close her eyes. Instead of the expected impact, however, she continues to stumble forward. When she opens her eyes again, King’s Cross has been replaced by a single platform and a bright red train. Around them, families dressed in robes push trolleys carrying caged owls and broomsticks.

Petunia tears her hand away from Lily. “Don’t touch me!”

Lily looks hurt. “Tuney, I just wanted–”

“I didn’t even want to be here! It’s not like I need to be!” she snaps, and to her horror, she can feel her lip quivering. She looks around desperately for her parents. They are standing some distance away, drinking in the scene, unaware of their children’s quarrel. “I’ll stay at home while you’re off at your dumb school,” she says and tries to sound angry instead of pathetic.

“I’m sorry, Tuney, I’m sorry! Listen–” says Lily, taking her hand again and holding tight against her attempts to pull away. “Maybe once I’m there – no, listen, Tuney! Maybe once I’m there, I’ll be able to go to Professor Dumbledore and persuade him to change his mind!”

“I don’t – want – to – go!” Petunia struggles to drag her hand out of her sister’s grasp, heaving. “You think I want to go to some stupid castle and learn to be a – a –” She can’t make herself say it. Her eyes rove over the platform: the cats mewling in their owners’ arms, the owls fluttering and hooting from their cages, the students loading trunks onto the scarlet steam engine. “–you think I want to be a –” She will never be one of them, never be able to board that engine, only to stand back and watch it pull away. A wild, hateful longing rises up in her. “– a _freak?_ ” she spits.

Immediately, Lily's hold goes limp. Her eyes fill with tears. “I’m not a freak. That’s a horrible thing to say,” she says as Petunia succeeds in tugging her hand away.

It _is_ a horrible thing to say – so why does saying it make Petunia feel less horrible? The voice is back in her head, urging her on. “That’s where you’re going,” she says with relish, “a special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy… weirdos, that’s what you two are.” He had hurt her; he had dropped a tree branch on her shoulder and made her bleed. “It’s good you’re being separated from normal people. It’s for our safety.”

Lily looks toward their parents then too, still far away, still oblivious. Then she looks back and her voice is low and fierce. “You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.”

All at once, Petunia’s face is on fire and she can’t breathe. The voice goes silent. “Beg?” she chokes out. “I didn’t beg!”

“I saw his reply. It was very kind.”

Petunia trembles with humiliation. “You shouldn’t have read – that was my private – how could you –?” The words catch in her throat.

Lily’s eyes dart to the side; Petunia turns and sees Severus Snape, standing next to his sour-looking mother. She gasps. “That boy found it! You and that boy have been sneaking in my room!”

“No – not sneaking –” Lily stammers. “Severus saw the envelope, and he couldn’t believe a Muggle could have contacted Hogwarts, that’s all!” Her sister keeps talking, but Petunia stops hearing the words.

 _He couldn’t believe a Muggle could have contacted Hogwarts, that’s all._ And suddenly she is apoplectic with rage. “Apparently wizards poke their noises in everywhere!” she says. She clenches her shaking hands into fists. “ _Freak!”_ And with that parting shot, she flounces off toward her mum, leaving Lily to dissolve into tears behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a longer one-shot, but I decided to cut it off here. There is the possibility of a Part II if anyone would be interested. Please feel free to share your thoughts! Constructive criticism is always welcomed. Thank you for reading.


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